


Underground

by Androids_in_Metropolis



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, X-Men (Movies), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Crossover, Cute, F/M, Familial Love, Family, Family Fluff, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Mutants, PTSD, SHIELD, Sick Character, Sick Fic, Thriller, Universe Alteration, X-Gene, back stories, on-going, twin moments
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-21
Updated: 2015-09-23
Packaged: 2018-04-22 16:39:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4842728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Androids_in_Metropolis/pseuds/Androids_in_Metropolis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An underground operation to 'cure' the X-Gene, funded and monitored by SHIELD. <br/>Underage captives of 'war' and abuse of power. <br/>Confused agents. </p><p>It's all going down, and the only question is; who comes out?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this is something new that I am trying. I hope you guys forgive any mistakes, but wow. this is going places ( i hope). It's a slightly AU version of ways things could've gone down at a different, prelel moment before AoU. 
> 
> Please enjoy it :P

The underground chamber was cool, wet, and held in sound. Two kids sat on adjacent plank beds, a thick wall separating them. Both looked young, both looked broken and tired and more than a little hopeless. 

The boy’s face was flushed. He felt like he was burning up, his eyes shining with a fever light, his hands shaking. The girl’s face was stony, all her concentration on the boy. She was speaking to him, though her lips weren’t moving. She was streamlining her thoughts into his head, telling him to stay calm. His heart was beating too quickly, and she knew it. 

A strange language filled both their heads, their thoughts not in any language that the young psychic in the corner could read. She noted that they were close…brother and sister? Twins, maybe? She let herself out of their thoughts, locking the door behind her, letting their private minds maintain their names. 

A draft floated through the prison like barracks that housed as many as twelve ‘test subjects’. All were of age except for the twins in their separate cells. All had given permission and signed contracts. All were treated as human, except for the twins. They had been taken, prisoners of war. They were from an enemy camp, speaking a language no one knew, and therefore unable to explain themselves to the freedom fighters who had taken theirs. 

The door at the end of the hall creaked open, another draft creeping in. All the occupants of the barracks turned to look at the agents walking down the aisle, towards the cells of the only two people who had not turned to track the progress of the agents. A soft gasp left the red haired agent’s lips, anger flaring in her eyes. Those were children in front of her…

The young psychic, Jean Grey, could read the fear, hurt, and anger radiating off the agents who had followed Fury into the mutant barracks. The red headed female seemed more upset than the others, biting her lip until a droplet of red blood dripped from her lip. She could see the pain of memories etched into the agent's face. Jean cut off the stream of thoughts, giving the girl back her privacy. 

“Fury, what is this?” Clint whispered, anger and confusion clearly dripping from his words. He was watching the young children-teens, maybe?-in the cells in front of them, both in obvious pain. Both twinged with discomfort. They both looked so young, and so lost. An abused dog feeling radiated off of them, both keeping their heads low and their eyes averted. Clint could tell they knew they were being watched, though, making the situation even more uncomfortable. 

“It is what it is,” Fury answered, somewhat melancholy. He hadn’t known of these twins in the program. Someone had illegally entered them into it to avoid the hassle of the paperwork, finding a translator, making sure they were okay. It was all wrong, he knew, but he hadn’t known about the wrong. “Here, agent Romanoff, you try to speak to them,” he ordered-requested-opening the door further and offering for the red headed agent to enter the cell of the girl. 

Natasha walked slowly in, pushing memories of her childhood away and trying to work everything she felt back into their boxes carefully labeled in her mind; ‘Pain’, ‘hurt’, ‘childhood’, etc. The girl didn’t look up, cringing away from her touch as she reached out to put a hand on her shoulder. 

“Hello,” she whispered in Russian, her mother tongue sounding strange and awkward to her own ears. Her word echoed off the eery cell walls. “Do you speak Russian?” she asked, still in said language. She waited with baited breath for a reply. 

Silence. 

“Yes, we speak Russian,” the girl replied, the language slipping from her lips as water from a tap that had been shut off for a very long time. She hadn’t spoken in a while, preferring to use her mind to speak to her brother, and no one else offering any kind words or demanding questions. She had taught herself the language through, listening to the thoughts of the guards and the researchers and the other inmates. She had taught Pietro, and now, English was a tool they could use. It was a pity that no one bothered to ask; There was no interrogation, no way to find out why they were there or why they were being tortured for information Wanda was almost sure they didn’t have. 

Natasha sighed with relief, crouching down on her knees so she could look the little girl in the eyes. She was maybe fifteen or sixteen? Her hair was a mess, falling in her strange magenta eyes. They were clouded, pale, matching her moonlight skin. Natasha found herself wondering when the last time was that this girl had seen the light of day was. Scolding herself she put her mind back on track, reminding herself that she was an agent, she was not the type to be so easily distracted by humanity. 

“Are you from Russia?” Natasha asked, detecting the accent in the girl's words. She softened her voice, trying to sound comforting...motherly, she realised. “And your name?” She glanced over at the others standing outside the cell, proud to see the stoney look on Clint’s face and the ashamed and upset look on Fury’s. 

“No, Sokovia,” the girl replied, glancing at Natasha for the first time during their awkward conversation. “My name is Wanda...Wanda Maximoff,” she continued, holding Natasha’s gaze, almost defiant though looking like she expected at any moment to be slapped. It was common practice with the researchers. As far as she could tell they were nothing more or less than prisoners of war, and though she would try her best to explain otherwise, no one would listen. 

“Sokovia?” Natasha repeated, trying to invission such a place on a map in her head. She couldn’t do it, though she had a nagging feeling that it was close to Romania and Hungary and Transylvania. She wondered why this girl spoke Russian so fluently, but she wasn’t sure she should ask that question right then. “And your friend, he’s your brother?” she asked, nodding towards the wall that separated the girl’s cell from the boy’s. 

Wanda nodded, turning her gaze away. Natasha thought for a moment she saw tears in the girl’s eyes, and she was getting to her feet, marching out the cell and throwing open the other cell door, taking Wanda with her. The girl flew to the boy, her arms wrapping themselves around his neck, her head buried in the area between his shoulder and his head. Natasha got the feeling that they hadn’t been together in a very, very long time. 

“Please, help my brother,” Wanda whispered, turning to look at Natasha, cleaning having decided to trust her. She looked desperate, ready to throw her life away. She was shaking, tears running down her cheeks from her strange red eyes. The boy had barely responded to her embrace, his eyes still directed at his feet, his shoulder slumped forward. 

Natasha and Clint were by their sides in a moment, Clint wrapping an arm around the boy’s shoulders, and Natasha taking Wanda’s hand as she began to speak into her headpiece, ordering a car and a doctor, glaring at Fury all the while. She knew it wasn’t wholly his fault that these children had been locked away, forced to live like criminals, worse even than the other inmates who had signed up for this, but she needed someone to blame. 

The boy had passed out in Clint’s arms, and he too, was speaking quick fire into a headpiece, listing symptoms and asking questions as he guided the party out of the cells and into the sunlight of the well lit SHIELD main building. Natasha had wrapped an arm around Wanda’s shoulder, whispering to her in Russian, explaining as best she could. 

Fury came up the rear, his expression hard to read, fire in his eyes. 

Jean Grey watched the twins leave with some relief, glad to see the children freed. She had signed up for this, they had not; It wasn’t legal for them to. She hoped justice was served, and then she settled back in her cell, waiting for someone to come and retrieve her for more research. 

A cure for the X-gene.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strangers and backstories and a fast fall into family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoy this. I think it's going pretty okay.

Pietro, as they learned his name was, was in intensive care at Stark tower medical. His heart rate was faster than even his mutation could be responsible for. It was found he was intensely dehydrated, and Wanda had explained in halting English and faster Russian that he hadn’t been able to drink. Something the researchers had given him had caused him to vomit if he drank, and so he had given up trying. 

He was a mutant, just as his sister was, and after some probing into the SHIELD science department they found that he had an increased heart rate due to his power which was most basically speed. He moved quickly, his heart having to keep up with it, but if he wasn’t moving, and his heart moved as quickly as it was supposed to when he was running he was forced into a heat stroke like state, too hot and unable to drink to cool off. The scientist which had done this to him had quickly been discovered, and let go on charges against humanity. 

After a few questions in rushed Russian Natasha determined that Wanda was psychic, and telekinetic. She had been holding an ongoing conversation with her brother through the wall, in their heads, for the better part of a month now. Natasha didn’t know why, but that was one of the saddest things she had ever heard. She wondered where her training was; The training that was supposed to keep her emotions at bay. She had been totally disarmed by these twins. 

Natasha was speaking in hushed tones to Fury and Clint in the corner of the hospital wing, glancing now and then at the pair of twins. Pietro was in a bed, his white hair and skin in stark contrast with the cream coloured sheets Tony had no doubt ‘tastefully’ chosen. Wanda was sitting on the bed beside him, her hand in his, both with IV drips poking out of their skin. 

“We can’t take them,” Clint whispered, looking a little desperate. He had never imagined himself a father. He wouldn’t be fit. He had barely convinced himself he was worth being a boyfriend-a lover-to Natasha, now he was being asked to be a father for these kids? He felt bad for them. He knew a little bit how they felt. His father had been a god-awful one, what if it was genetic? What if he just wasn’t as good a person as he thought he was. 

Fury sighed, wondering how he had gotten into this situation. How had he become a juvenile lawyer and also a criminal in just a matter of hours? He had trained in law, he had personnel on the line drawing up legal papers, finding proof of birth and sorting through records for the twins. He was speaking to someone else over text about how it had happened that these children had been captured and taken and used. As of that moment, he still had nothing. 

“We have to, Clint. You wouldn’t have to raise them,” Natasha argued, looking pleadingly at her partner. She wasn’t sure if she could do it either, but there wasn’t really another option at that moment. These kids didn’t deserve to be thrown into the system (no kids did), not after everything they had gone through. She had never experienced parenting; Her own parents had left her very young, and she had been sterilized. She had never thought that her dream of having children might somehow become a reality. It had never crossed her mind. 

Clint signed, his shoulders slumping forward and his eyes glancing back down his lap. He had given in, Natasha had won, as she often did. He was already stealing himself to be a better man than his father was. He would be a father to theses kids-They deserved at least that, but still he was shaking inside, unsure of his place in all this. He didn’t know where he belonged, how he could be a father without ever having had one himself. 

“Okay, Nat, just...okay,” He whispered, looking up at her, taking her hand in his and squeezing it lightly. He knew this would be hard for her too, maybe harder than it was for him. She had been basically a prisoner herself all her life, an assassin in training. 

Both turned to Fury then, nodding lightly, before they went over to speak to the twins, leaving Fury to get the legal things over with. It had been determined that they were orphans, their parents killed in a raid over Sokovia when they were about nine or ten. It had been found that they had lived in various orphanages, and the streets as well over the years before they had volunteered for illegal experimentation by Hydra. That’s where SHIELD had come in, capturing them as part of Hydra despite the fact that they were obvioulsy unerage and with the simplest of investigations would have been determined to not have been in league with Hydra. 

Fury watched as Natasha explained to the twins what was happening, telling them about how they would come live with she and Clint on their farm outside of New York City. He watched as Wanda’s face contorted from shock to happiness and confusion before she collapsed into the female agent’s arms, obviously crying. Natasha looked obviously shocked, but she handled it with the grace of a dancer, already falling into her new found role of comforter. 

Pietro on the other hand hardly reacted at all, still holding his sister’s hand. He held her hand, his eyes trained on his lap, his fingers holding her’s so tightly that his knuckles had gone an off white. 

Clint awkwardly stood by, watching the scene so obviously familial and strange in it’s newness. It was foreign, it was strange. There was no scene like this in his and Natasha’s collective memory blanks, neither of them having ever fallen into someone’s arms, their guards down. Never had either of them loved someone as Pietro seemed to love Wanda. Not until they had met each other. 

The twins were glad to be given a second chance, though they both were wary. Wanda had been lonely so long she was ready to accept any form of friendship someone could offer, already giving herself wholeheartedly to the new arrangement. Thought it was new, and a little more than a little uncomfortable she was trying it. She was being the daughter than Natasha would have wanted. 

Pietro on the other hand was not so sure of the situation, having grown almost sickly fond of being alone. He was shocked by the sounds and the brightness of the new surroundings, he was wanting to sink into the bed and disappear, but that would be impossible, and even if it was, he would have to leave Wanda to do so, and he wasn’t willing to go to that extreme. 

Clint watched the boy, recognizing his feeling. He reminded the archer of himself when he was younger, unwanted and unsure of what part he played in the busy and bustling world. After all, what role did a deaf teenager have in the grand scheme of things? Just a kid thirsty for someone and someplace to call love. 

He wrapped an arm around the boy’s shoulders, glad when Pietro relaxed into his hold, saying, in the most small of ways, that he trusted him.

Fury watched the scene unfold, feeling a little choked up over everything that was happening for these children. There was something special, something raw about the scene in front of him and it wasn’t a feeling he had been prepared to deal with when the news of the twins had reached his desk at precisely eleven thirty-two that morning. 

\---------------------------------------------

The twins were brought to the farm after a day of waiting around in the Stark hospital wing. They were subjected to tests-made very clear that they were purely for medical reasons-and talking to Natasha and Clint, and sometimes other Avengers. 

They explained over and over what had happened, and they got to know Clint and Natasha; Much like speed dating right before an arranged marriage. They exchanged likes and dislikes, needs, allergies, what their parents were like. 

Pietro was still silent, Wanda speaking for him. Clint was silent also, Natasha telling the two children about him. Telling them, in his absence, that she was sorry for his silence; He was nervous, he was scared. She explained that he hadn’t ever thought about being a guardian of anyone other than himself, and that maybe he was a little scared. 

The twins had nodded, the confession even getting a reaction out of Pietro. He somehow connected with the older man, understanding. He had never thought he would be saved, somehow. He had never believed that he would be someone's child again, no matter how loosely the term would be applied. The moment the bomb had gone off, the days he had been forced to look at his father and mother’s dead, blank stares he had ceased being anything but a brother, totally alone in his sister’s companionship. 

The farm was cold in the near winter air, the twins in the back of the car. Clint drove, Natasha passed out juice boxes and crackers as the two hour drive stretched to three with an unexpected storm. Of course, they could have taken a jet, but Natasha had thought it would be better to drive; The old fashioned, distinctly familial car ride to the country. 

It was late by the time they arrived, driving up the gravel path to the large farm house the two agents inhabited. It was much too large for just the both of them, and Natasha had always secretly (almost shamefully) had allowed herself to hope that somehow they would have children running around the house. 

They walked to the front door through the rain, Clint scrambling to find his keys as the three people behind him shivered under the porch awning. Finally he found them in his overnight bag (He always had one ready for a mission), clicking the front door open and letting the other three in, shutting the door behind him and flipping on the lights. Natasha hurried the twins and Clint to the kitchen, getting hot chocolate ready as soon as she had set down her bag. 

“Well, uh, Welcome home,” she told them, putting three mugs of whip cream and 100s & 1000s on the table in front of her new found family, giving them a warm smile as she grabbed her own cup and sat down at the table, friendly conversation slowly breaking out between the four people sitting around a country kitchen table, listening to the rain outside, their light house closed in on all sides by dark clouds. 

Two were strangers and two were quite intimate, but somehow, now, they were family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review :) I would love some input, if anyone is interested in giving it.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Pietro and Clint do mental gymnastics

The next day was an open book; They sat around the kitchen, eating, talking, explaining everything about the situation. The twins didn’t understand why they were in this foreign country, and though the two adults did their best to explain the circumstances, they just didn’t understand. Their country wasn’t even a country any more, now under complete military control under the UK and US forces combined. 

“So, there is no Sokovia?” Pietro asked, his voice trembling. He had been shaky since the medicine Stark had given him started to take effect, slowing his heart rate by force of will. “No more...Sokovia.”

He looked shattered, and Natasha felt horrible. He would of had to find out some time; Did it have to be right then? She awkwardly wrapped her arms around him, feeling him shaking in her arms. She wondered if he had somehow allowed himself to imagine a future where he and his sister would have returned to Sokovia somehow. She knew she had never allowed herself to imagine going ‘home’, she didn’t even know where home was, but she was glad he had hope, even if it was misplaced. 

“No, I’m sorry,” she whispered into his hair, glancing at Clint, her eyes filled with pain. She wasn’t sure how to deal with the situation, she wished he would be more helpful, but she knew it wasn’t fair to expect that of him. He hadn’t wanted them in the first place…

She was surprised when she felt his strong arms wrapped around her and then the thin arms of Wanda added to the mix, an impromptu group hug of strangers in a big country kitchen on a cold, rainy Sunday morning. The boy at the center of the group was crying; He had hoped that one day he would be going home. The girl was trying to transmit her strength to him through her physical touch, running a hand through his messy hair. 

The rest of the day played out smoothly; They talked a little, slept some, made arrangements for the twins to go to school after Christmas (a few months away) and then took turns keeping an eye on the children when the other talked over the phone with Fury and Stark, working out finishing legal papers and working on how they’d raise them, what the twins would call them. How things would work with two underage, foreign language speaking, abandoned children in the house. 

“I don’t want to be called anything,” Clint hissed at Tony as he made a ‘daddy’ stab, making fun of his friend. Clint didn’t think it was funny; He wasn’t a father. He wasn’t that type of man, and even if he was, he wasn’t ‘father’ material. He wasn’t worth it. He never learned how to be a father, how the hell would he teach someone else? 

“Touchy, touchy,” Tony tutted on the other end of the line, laughing as Clint hung up on him. Steve was looking at him from across the room, a look of fond conciseness on his all-american face. 

Clint returned to the kitchen, smiling softly as he saw Natasha cutting vegetables on the kitchen island with Wanda by her side, imitating her movements and Pietro sitting on a stool across from them, his knees drawn up to his chest as he watched them both, taking everything in. He looked a little brooding, and more than a little detached from the situation, though his eyes were trained on Nat’s hands. Clint wondered what he was thinking about. 

Natasha looked up, seeing Clint in the doorway, a shadow of the snarky and quick to lash out man she had known. He was still processing it, she told herself, though she couldn’t help but be worried, gesturing for him to come over and join them, wrapping her arms around his and kissing him gently. 

“What are you thinking about?” she asked, echoing Clint’s his own thoughts. She rested her head on his shoulder, feeling his chest rising and falling slowly against her. It was calming; Something about his breathing was distinctly him. She would have known it was his breathing even if she couldn’t see him. It was one of those things about him that she just knew. 

“Nothing, really. Don’t worry,” Clint replied, kissing her read head gently before pulling away, grabbing one of the carrots she had been chopping and popping it his mouth, determined not to worry her with his private insecurities. “Now, what delicious thing are we making with noodles and carrots?” he asked, directing his question at Wanda. 

“Uh, I do not know,” she replied, her accent thick though all the words were the right ones. She smiled shyly at him, and Clint was surprised by this. She was trying so hard to move on, so hard to be just another child. So different than her brother. 

“Neither do I,” laughed Natasha, popping a chunk of carrot into his own mouth. “What do ya say we order pizza?” she asked, looking at the three people in front of her, smiling. She hadn’t really thought that far when it came to cooking, just grabbing what they had out of the cabinets and fridge. It looked like a thing of spaghetti (which Clint had boiled), two carrots which she and Wanda had chopped, a bar and a half of chocolate, a can of beans, and a carton of chocolate milk. She didn’t know what she had been thinking. 

“Yes, Pizza,” Clint agreed, nodding at Natasha as he swung over the counter to grab the phone. 

“Pizza?” Wanda asked, her eyes searching as she repeated the words. “What is Pizza?” She questioned, looking a bit nervous. She had no idea what it was, but she didn’t like the sound of it. It could be anything...it could be a war ready to come to the door, though she knew that was silly. It was probably some kind of food, but she couldn’t bring it to mind. 

“It’s uh, like pie, I guess,” Clint tried to explain, his eyebrows knitted together. “You’ll probably like it,” he assured her, smiling. “I’ll order for you, k?” he asked, smiling, looking at both she and Pietro. She was waiting for some kind of assent from the messy haired boy, waiting for him to shake himself back to reality. 

“Uh, of course, that is alright,” Pietro replied, his tone still with a dreamy feeling to it. He wasn’t fully there, not quite part of their reality. Clint was getting a little worried, but with a glance at Wanda he saw that she seemed unconcerned. Maybe this was just the boy’s mind set? 

Clint smiled, nodding before heading off to see Natasha and order food with her. 

\----------

Pietro was stuck inside himself, as he often was. Before their powers had manifested Wanda had been his only conversational companion, and now that they didn’t need to speak out loud to communicate with each other Pietro found himself growing increasingly silent. He had learned English from his sister inside his head, but he didn’t find himself using it. He thought in Sokovian, he translated all the sounds around him inside his head, a bump becoming a ‘plimp’ and a whisper ‘pošopkat ‘. 

He found the concern on Clint’s face worrying; He didn’t understand it. He was behaving himself. He had grown less awkward with these two new people, and he was even answering their questions, behaving with politeness and a kind of gravity that was entirely new to him. 

He wondered why the old man seemed so concerned. 

Wanda was looking at him now, and he quickly rearranged his face into a smile for her, reaching over and taking her hand across the counter. He could feel her warmth, and her very presence made him feel more at ease in these new and strange surroundings. 

He understood that this was to be his new home; There was no more Sokovia. His parent’s were dead. His home was gone. All he had was his sister, and these new people offering to be his family; He wasn’t sure what to do with that information. He wasn’t comfortable falling straight into a family, as Wanda seemed to be, but he didn’t want to push them away. 

He hoped his sister wasn’t in his head at that moment. 

\--------------------

Wanda helped Natasha bring the boxes from the front door, surprised at how hot they were. She hadn’t ever really thought about transporting hot food before, thinking things like sandwiches and cold soups were the only foods that would be delivered to your front door, as the lunches were delivered to the working people in Sokovia when she was younger. Her mother would bring her father one at noon every day…

Pizza really wasn’t what she had been expecting, she realised as she helped set up the food on the living room floor in front of the TV at Natasha’s request. 

Clint and Pietro came in a moment later carrying pitchers of tea and mugs, setting them up on the coffee table with with food. 

“So, uh, dig in,” Natasha laughed, switching on the TV and flipping through the channels until she found the early movie that was being shown; Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. To set an example she grabbed one of the cheesy slices, transferring it to a plate and pouring herself a glass of tea. 

The twins hesitantly followed suit, Clint following last, happily sitting back on the couch with his girlfriend and settling in to watch the movie. He hadn’t seen it lately, and he knew he would like it. He wondered what the twins would think about it; Had they ever seen Harry Potter before? He doubted it. From what he could tell, Sokovia was a third world country and the twins had grown up on the bottom rung of the low set ladder. 

He wrapped an arm around Natasha, nuzzling her neck. He planted a soft kiss there before starting to eat, the opening credits rolling across the flickering screen. 

Natasha blinked away tears, surprised by how emotional she had been lately; As if she had really just given birth to the children in front of her, laying on their stomachs across the floor, Pietro actually laughing as he struggled with the thick, melted cheese on his slice of pizza. Wanda was being no help at all as she teased him quietly, as sister’s are apt to do. She felt perfectly content in that moment, Clint at her side and the twins obviously warming up to her and the house and the new situation. 

Clint smiled at Natasha’s face, brushing a stray hair from her bangs absent mindedly as he focussed back on the movie. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, not yet, but he was getting more comfortable with the idea of having a family. The twins were young, they were interested. They seemed polite, and they didn’t expect anything of him as a father. He liked that they had no expectations for him to shatter by his total ineptness at parenting, but he still intended to do his very best for them. He would be a good man for Natasha, and try to be a good father for the twins...It couldn’t be that hard, right?

‘You think we are a family, maybe soon?’ Pietro thought, directed at his sister. His broken English was understood by her, and she smiled, glad he was putting in the effort and at least trying. 

‘Yes, I hope so. I want a family very much,’ she admitted, sending her thoughts back to him. ‘I don’t want to be just us anymore.’ 

Pietro nodded, wrapping an arm around his sister’s shoulder as the movie moved forward, though it only had half his attention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos :)   
> If you want to review, I don't bite, promise :3

**Author's Note:**

> I would really love some reviews and second opinions :P If anyone wants to be marvel fandom friends, feel free to hit me up. You can also find me on my malti-fandom blog Murderphy.tumblr.com :)


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